


All She Needs to Do is Ask (Pure Fetish Smut)

by OfStarsAndDreams



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Affection, Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, BDSM, Bad Sex, Blue Balls, Bondage, Boys in Skirts, Chastity, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Cock Tease, Come Shot, Come as Lube, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Consent, Control, Cowgirl Position, Crossdressing, Cuckolding, Dildos, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dominance, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Dressing Room Sex, Dry Orgasm, Embarrassment, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Femdom, Feminization, Fetish, Filming, Gentle Kissing, Gift Giving, Girlfriend, Gossip, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, House Cleaning, Kissing, Laundry, Lesbian Sex, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Lolita, Love, Lube, Mistress, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Play, Object Penetration, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Pampering, Panties, Pegging, Penis In Vagina Sex, Predicament Bondage, Presents, Prostitution, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Service, Service Kink, Service Submission, Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexy, Shibari, Shopping, Skirts, Smut, Stockings, Stranger Sex, Strap-Ons, Submission, Swingers, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Webcams, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 17:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfStarsAndDreams/pseuds/OfStarsAndDreams
Summary: A man's journey into service, chastity, group sex, and much much more - all for the woman he loves. More specific content tags in text.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	All She Needs to Do is Ask (Pure Fetish Smut)

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a work of erotic fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams. My short stories are generally written on behalf of others and do not necessarily reflect my personal interests, fetishes, or personal history.
> 
> Contents: F/m. Group F on solo m. Loving/affectionate BDSM. Girlfriend. Consensual. Dominance/Submission. Service submission. Chastity (m). Control. Orgasm control/delay/denial (m). Dry orgasm. Feminization/Crossdressing. Sissy. Lolita fashion (on m). Public sex. Vaginal fingering. Gifts/Presents/Pampering. Public displays of affection. Blue balls. Objectification. PiV/Vaginal sex. Sex toys (all varieties). Oral sex (m on F). Anal sex (with toys, F on m). Anal play (on m). Strap on use/pegging (F to m). Teasing. Kissing/nuzzling/cuddling. Bondage. Shibari. Embarrassment. Filming/Performing sex on webcam/video chat. Exhibitionism. Domestic services. Anonymous sex. Gossip. Swingers. Lube. Female on female/lesbian sex. Group sex/orgy. Nipple play. Double penetration (anal on m). Prostitution (suggested, mentioned). Cuckolding (suggested, mentioned)

My friends always tell me that my girlfriend is controlling. That I'm pussy whipped, being led by the nose. I mean, I can't say I don't understand why they think that. But they just don’t understand, they don't have the same perspective I do. They're on the outside looking in. 

And honestly I couldn't care less about what they say anyway. My girlfriend… she's everything to me. She's never once forced me to do anything. She doesn’t threaten me, or nag me, or hold things over my head. I’ve never been made to feel like I have to do something I don’t want to do. She’s not like that at all. Sure, she’ll push me a little, but it’s always in my best interest. And doesn’t everyone try to help their partner improve, in some way or another, to be a better person, or to strengthen their relationship? It’s not any different than someone trying to convince their spouse to go for the better job, work harder on their presentation, or explore new things together, right? She’s just giving me a patient nudge in the right direction, is all.

Truly, she’s the sweetest, most loving woman I’ve ever met, and she’s always been very honest and fair with me, since the very beginning. I never feel like I’m out of the loop, or that I’m not being considered, it’s just… well… 

She has very specific tastes.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that she’s demanding. Like I said, she’s not pushy. She doesn’t beg or try to squeeze things out of people. Rather, she knows exactly what she wants and has no interest in settling for less, or in playing pretend to make someone else happy. That’s something I love about her. And the thing about it is this - whatever it is she wants, I want nothing more than to give it to her. For someone like me to be somehow worthy of such an amazing, incredible, intelligent and undeniably enticing woman.

Surprisingly, I actually met her on Tinder. I know, not a great place to go looking for a long term relationship, but, to be honest, back then I really hadn’t been interested in finding one. I just wanted to have a bit of fun with someone looking for the same. Frankly, I just wanted to get off, no strings attached. At the time I would have told you that I wasn’t looking for romance, but, as it turned out, I had simply never met the right woman.

Her profile had a picture of her in tall black boots, manicured nails, and a long jacket with a hem that sat just at the end of her skirt. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot and she was wearing classy dark sunglasses. Somehow both vaguely professional and serious but also incredibly sexy.

I was completely shocked when she agreed to meet me for lunch. I’d felt like she was so incredibly far out of my league that she’d never even contact me, but there we were about to meet up for a casual date. I knew there was a chance she was one of those dine and dash girls looking for a free meal, but I decided to take the risk. We were meeting in a cafe after all, not an expensive bistro.

Still, I was a bit surprised when she showed up. I remember standing up to greet her, almost shaking with nerves - I’d never felt this nervous around a woman, not once in my life - and then her, standing vaguely by her chair, checking her phone, seemingly impatient or even agitated. After a bit, uncertain of what to do, not wanting to seat myself before she did, I pulled out her chair for her. It was only then that she sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

And who said chivalry was dead?

She didn’t talk about herself a whole lot, but she didn’t exactly ask me about myself either. She was surprisingly distant, if anything. I struggled to get a good read on her. Mostly she talked about things - events, concepts, things she’d read, even current politics. She made no attempt to avoid touchy subjects that could potentially offend a lunch partner.

Eventually she started talking about men. Specifically about how men in the current culture were shockingly self interested. They were only looking out for themselves, completely unconcerned with the happiness of their partner. She explained that it used to be the case that men were looked down upon if they couldn’t satisfy the women they slept with, that they actively endeavored to bring them to orgasm, and that men currently had no similar expectation and thus were almost universally bad at sex. I was a bit surprised by how brazenly she discussed such things in public with a man she’d just met.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep with her that day, or in our immediate dates to follow. The first time, in fact, that I performed any sexual act with her at all is when, unprompted, she had me get her off in the dressing room of a high end clothing store. She’d called me in to help her with some buttons, but then slid my hand up under her skirts. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just went along with it.

I remember it very clearly. At that time I had still not yet seen what was under those skirts - nor would I that day either. I was pressed up against her in that tight room, her legs spread just enough to allow my access, my face nearly squished against the wall of the dressing room. I remember the feel of her soft, smooth skin, as gentle as a velvet glove, growing slick and wet under my touch, the way her body arched and pushed against me as I pushed myself slowly inside her, curling my fingers up against her insides, my thumb resting against her clit.

I had to do it blind, which made me pointedly aware of how she felt, every small detail. I did my best to map out her anatomy in my head, not for my own sake, but to give her as much pleasure as I could. I was eventually awarded with a tiny gasp, quiet and restrained - she didn’t want to make the staff aware of our actions. When I felt that shuddering tremble, her body pushing into my arms, her pussy squeezing down around my fingers, I felt an overwhelming wave of complete satisfaction.

She then tidied herself up, made herself presentable, and gave me a sweet, intoxicating kiss. Affections were not uncommon from her - despite her seeming severity she seemed to enjoy doting on me, buying me little things, and even being physical, after her fashion. It was not uncommon for her to lock her arms with me, or hug me, to touch my face and clothes, or even run her hands over my shoulders and arms. But that was the first time she’d truly kissed me, a real kiss and not just a peck on the cheek or forehead.

I think it was at that point my fate was sealed.

Of course, she made no offer to return the favor, and I didn’t insist, or even bring it up. Instead I ended up carrying her bags, my cock sore and aching, tucked up into my belt to hide the obvious stiffness. I worried the whole time that someone would notice until it eventually subsided. I drove her back to her place, and helped her carry her purchases inside.

I often ended up doing small things like that for her, carrying things, opening doors, helping her in and out of cars. I’m not even sure why I did them. She seldom asked. But there was always this… lingering expectation, I guess. She wouldn’t do them herself. Instead she would just wait next to whatever offending task needed doing. If she wanted to go through a door, she would stand next to it until it magically opened for her. And that magic usually ended up being me, eager to please her. She would wait, browsing her phone with her carefully tended nails, as I carried boxes or cleaned up messes or bought her an umbrella for the rain.

And, after enough time, I ended up doing other things. Small things at first, little favors she asked for. Her, sitting on the couch, asking me for a glass of water. To fetch her shoes so we could go out. And then, over time, to drive her to the salon and wait while she had her hair cut, or her nails done. To run down to the store and fetch a current magazine, or a hot coffee from her favorite local shop, or, perhaps most egregiously, to wait outside and do research for some work she was doing for a client while she spent several hours at a day spa. I can’t begin to tell you why I did it, other than that I really wanted her to be happy.

It’s not like it was thankless. She was always so sweet to me when I was done. She’d kiss me and giggle and rub my nose with hers and tell me how happy she was that she’d found a man like me. We’d watch movies on the couch, with her in a fluffy robe, curled up in my arms. It felt like heaven.

Over time our relationship grew more sexual. She seemed unconcerned with my needs, but she had a strong appetite of her own, so it ended up working out. When the mood struck her, regardless of what I was doing, and sometimes even regardless of where we were or if we had company, she would find some place and use me to get off. That’s really the best way to describe it. She certainly seemed very into it, and legitimately into me, but in some ways I was not much more than a human sex toy. I would have thought she was taking advantage of me, just using me for my mouth, my hands, or my cock, but she would always swoop me up in her arms after, shower me with kisses and praise, little sweet nothings and nuzzles.

I also made a point to give her pleasure even when she wasn’t coming onto me. I’d find her when she was reading a book, crawl myself up under her skirts and send her into waves of shuddering delight. It was only then that I’d slip my own cock inside her, feeling her tight slickness, enjoying my own surge of pleasure.

And that’s really where the problem started. Over time she seemed to grow disinterested in sex. I somewhat doubted that her once voracious appetite had dried up, so it seemed weird that she was seeking it from me less and less. Instead she seemed restless and irritated. I was worried she was meeting up with someone else, or that she’d lost her feelings for me. But at the same time she wasn’t any less sweet with me. She just didn’t want to fuck me.

Of course, after I abandoned my ego I knew deep in my heart what the answer was. She just wasn’t enjoying it. She was never the type to fake an orgasm, and, much to my increasing worry, she never seemed to get off while I was actually inside her, no matter what I did. Whatever I tried, however I attempted it, it was obvious she just wasn’t into it. I started to stress, worried that I was fucking up, that I was losing her. She was an extremely sexual creature, and it was clear to me that if I couldn’t satisfy her she’d go seeking someone who could.

Finally I brought it up to her. She seemed to regret doing so, but she openly acknowledged that, yes, actually, I was rather bad at sex. She tried to let me down easy, but she didn’t sugar coat it. I didn’t seem to be getting any better, and, to be frank, I wasn’t exactly that well equipped for the job. She’d tried to give me notes, and, to my credit, I did my best to follow them, but it simply wasn’t doing the trick. To be clear, my oral was top notch and I never failed with my hands. I could do a great job at, say, getting her off unobtrusively in a movie theater. But the actual sex was strictly disappointing.

I felt shattered.

But it got worse. She admitted that not receiving adequate pleasure was a dealbreaker, stating reasonably that, despite her feelings, she refused to live the rest of her life like that and if she wasn’t satisfied she’d have to break up with me. She also said that she had no intention of having lousy sex on my behalf. It wasn’t worth her time or energy.

But there was at least a small silver lining, a caveat. I was still incredibly good at oral, after all. So she could try to make it work. She didn’t want to have sex, at least proper sex, anymore, but she’d be open to staying with me if I continued to get her off by other means. She said she would miss being properly fucked, but if I learned to compensate by using various toys on her then she’d give it a try. She truly did care for me, after all.

It seems crazy to agree to something like that but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. I still can’t. I would have done anything to make her life better. If she’d told me I had to wake up every day at 3 AM and scrub the toilet with a toothbrush I would probably have done it. No, I definitely would have done it. She is my world. I couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else. Sure, it made me feel lousy, I’m still only human, but really all I wanted was for her to keep smiling at me and telling me how happy I was making her. 

So I agreed. 

I won’t deny it, at first it was bad, really bad. I’d be constantly aching, running off into the bathroom to jerk myself off leaning over the toilet. It was agonizing. But, honestly, over time I got used to it. Going down on her just became another regular chore, not much different than doing the shopping or fetching the mail. My own sexual pleasure became disconnected, separated from hers. They didn’t exist on the same plane anymore.

And it’s not like she left me completely high and dry either. When the mood struck her she’d use toys on me as well. Various masturbaters and rings. Her favorite, though, were vibrators. She liked to press them into the area under my balls, sending the vibrations deep inside me, into my prostate. She’d slide the buzzing head up and down my shaft, delighting in the way it made me squirm. She’d keep me on the edge for ages until finally letting me get myself off while she continued to use her various devices. I didn’t even mind her keeping me on the brink for so long like that. When I did finally cum it was almost overwhelming, such a huge overpowering pleasure coursing through my body, my cock twitching and throbbing in my hands as the sensations washed over me like a flood. Something I could never get myself just jacking off alone.

She did really enjoy being there when I got off, and most enjoyed it when it was showy and dramatic. Usually this meant times where I hadn’t gotten myself off in some time, when it went through me like a rocket, whole body shaking, shooting giant loads of cum out over my stomach. It got to the point where she asked for me to not masturbate at all when she wasn’t around. She said she wanted me all to herself. I could see how delighted she was, how excited, every time it happened - usually she’d have me go down on her again after I finished, even if she’d just cum before playing with me - and I just couldn’t refuse. She lit up from head to toe when I agreed.

It was not that long afterwards when she told me, cuddled up in bed, that secretly she’d always really liked having that kind of control over someone. She’d always been somewhat interested in chastity, but had never tried to pursue it. It was, until that point, just a fantasy she’d entertained, something she could get off to, but a fantasy she’d relegated to the realms of porn and erotica. She said that we were already pretty much already there, and that she just couldn’t stop fantasizing about my cock locked up in a cage. She told me it wouldn’t change anything about what we already did in the bedroom, since I only got off with her anyway. It would really just get her hot knowing I was wearing it. She then asked me, point blank, if that was something I would do for her. She was seldom so direct, and I could see how much she really wanted it. Even talking about her seemed to be lighting a fire in her, her body pushing up against mine, almost eager.

Of course I was apprehensive. Who wouldn’t be? But I also remembered how unsatisfied and bored she’d been having “normal” sex, how excited she’d been lately, how she’d been taking more of an interest in my body, and just how happy she’d been doing these kinds of things with me lately. She frequently expressed such immense happiness for how I saved myself for her, keeping my orgasms all for her viewing, kissing me and stroking my cock throughout the day to remind me of what I was doing for her. So I thought about it and decided I’d try. For her. I wanted her to want to be with me, and not just go through the motions for my sake.

Which is how I ended up with my cock in a tight metal cage. She’d bought me an expensive, elaborate model, one that couldn’t be finagled off with a bit of effort. I still remember the first time she put it on me, the cold feel of the metal, my growing apprehension and the sinking realization as the cage clicked shut and she locked it tight around me, then tugged at it experimentally to make sure I wouldn’t be able to remove it, even if I tried. Not that I would have. I’d never want to disappoint her like that. I could feel it at all times, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I could feel it there resting against me under my clothes. It was a constant reminder of her control over me and what exactly I was being denied. Every moment of my day became sexual in a weird, subtle way, which only made the whole situation worse as I felt my cock straining against its new prison. She was of course absolutely thrilled. She even made me show her multiple times over the next few days just so she could relish the sight of it. She kept the key on a necklace around her neck so I could always see it. She might as well have been holding it over my head, teasing me with it.

She really did love to tease me. She’d rub her hands over me, sliding them down my pants, doing everything she could to get me so incredibly hot and bothered. She’d edge me, use her toys on me, stick her vibrators right up to the metal of the cage. She started to use multiple toys at once, one pressed below my balls so I could feel it churning through to my insides, the other on the cage. She had this almost cruel delight for using them on me while I got her off, then leave me hanging as soon as she had. She’d leave me desperate for days just so that when I did come it would be even more dramatic, more stimulating for her. She’d sometimes even fuck herself as she watched me get off, riding some toy cock or other, almost torturing me with what I was being denied. And she seemed to love every moment of it. If anything it fired her up, made her kiss me more passionately, put a skip in her step. Even her performance at work improved. How could I say no to that?

Things really took a turn, though, on one particular night when she decided to have some fun with me after what had been almost two weeks of teasing. She’d had me laid on the bed, my hands up above my head, tied lightly with a sash so I wouldn’t reach down and try to touch anything. I had been twisting, turning, almost dying with how far she’d brought me without allowing release.

She’d been holding one of her vibrators right above my ass, when, almost as if it were out of simple curiosity, she moved it lower. She pushed it, gently, until the very tip of the device was slipping in. I didn’t say no, or try to stop. In all actuality, I probably made a rather undignified noise of need and desire, desperate for any sort of stimulation that might send me shooting over the edge. I’d have probably done pretty much anything at that point just to finally cum. She asked if I wanted to try something a little different. My head was in too much of a blur to really process it, but I willingly consented, perhaps blinded by that aching, overwhelming need for release. So, cooing and praising me, she grabbed some lube - I only later questioned why she had any on hand at all - and gradually worked the toy into my ass, slowly loosening me up bit by bit until, before I knew it, she had pushed it all the way inside me. Then she was fucking me with it, pushing it up against my prostate. I could feel it sliding in and out of me, filling me up, grinding up against my insides. The buzzing was hitting me from both ends, the one buried inside, the other pushing down onto the cage.

I felt my body moving without my being aware of it. Grinding against the two toys in an almost vulgar, instinctual fashion, hips writhing, sounds I didn’t know I could make sliding from my lips. I was embarrassed of course - I’d heard plenty of locker room talk by that point in my life, slurs about gay men taking it up the ass, sissies and queers - but I also couldn’t stop. I started to feel more and more ashamed, doing this in front of her. Really for doing any of it at all. It hit me all at once, the extent of what was happening. Here I was with my girlfriend, my cock locked into chastity, being ass fucked, and I was not just allowing it but encouraging it, eagerly yearning for it like some animal. I wanted it, I needed it, it felt so incredibly good I couldn’t stand it. I was torn, part of me dying to cum, the other never wanting it to stop. What kind of man was I?

And that’s about the time I came. I felt a wave pass over me like nothing I’d ever felt in my life, my cum spurting out over the bed, my legs, her hands, and somehow even a few drops on my own face. At first she was surprised. It was quite unexpected after all. There was the suddenness of it for one, along with the dramatic reaction of my body, thrusting up, back arched, clamping down on the toy. But first and foremost was the fact that it had happened at all, with me being completely locked up, my cock not having been touched even once. She quickly shifted over from shock to utter delight. She was captivated by the event, fascinated by the fact that such a thing was even possible for me. She couldn’t stop talking about it, not just while I was cleaning up, or for the rest of the night, but for days after it happened. She was entranced. And what that meant is she absolutely wanted another performance.

After that everything else I could have done became unsatisfying for her. That’s all she wanted anymore, for me to come without being touched, still locked up. It got to a point where the chastity cage simply never came off anymore. Not for any reason. Months went by without me ever touching my own cock. I even had to research how to clean it without taking it off. Her expectations for me were as high, and this was no different. She always held me to those kinds of standards, just like she had for all aspects of her life. She wanted the best, and wouldn’t settle for anything even vaguely disappointing when she knew she could have something bigger and better.

I want it to be clear, this wasn’t a punishment or anything, it wasn’t like I was forced into it. I just allowed it to happen and never said anything otherwise. I had this nagging fear that if I ever spoke up about it that would be the end of it. It was a silly thought, considering how sweet she always was, but I couldn’t shake it. I also didn’t want her to worry, or to be unhappy, or to feel let down by anything I did. Nor was there any need to trouble her with my complaints. She has an intense dislike for whining. Don’t get me wrong, she’ll listen attentively if I ever broach a problem with her, but only if it’s with the intent of finding a solution. She has no patience for pointless kvetching. I don’t blame her, it’s a waste of time and serves no purpose. It just leads to a sour mood, and who would want that? In any case this led to my never expressing even the slightest bit of potential displeasure. I didn’t say a word about having to deal with chafing, or how it fit in my clothes. I wouldn’t have dared, in case she got the wrong idea. She was so sweet to me, I’m sure she would have offered to remove it, maybe even insist, and I absolutely did not want her to have to go without something she loved so dearly.

But her peculiar notions for me didn’t stop there, either. As I said before, she’s a very doting girlfriend. She loves to coddle and pamper me, and she’ll praise me and shower me with affection - though I must admit it sometimes makes me feel more like a fancy show poodle than a boyfriend. This trait of hers only amplifies whenever I please her exceptionally well in the bedroom, or perform a task above and beyond her expectations. I legitimately crave these bouts of gratitude and affection, and strive hard to earn them. I know for a fact that they aren’t just her attempts to manipulate me, but are true earnest examples of her love. In fact, no one else I’ve ever known has made me feel as loved as she does. That’s the honest truth. All I can do is work as hard as I can to show her I am worthy of it. To please her in every way I can. She really is that amazing.

I will openly admit, however, that sometimes her ways of showing affection could come across as strange to a more mundane audience. For instance, she really likes buying me gifts. When she’s pleased with my performance, whether in the bedroom outside of it, she’ll shower me with presents - but the ones she gives me aren’t things most people would ever consider buying for their boyfriend. She prefers getting me things that are cute or sexy and specifically dislikes things that seem too macho or manly. At first I expressed a bit of concern about some of her choices, especially when she started buying me things like, say, thigh high stockings or baby doll crop tops. She eloquently pointed out that society had unfair gender expectations, and that people should wear whatever they wanted and not unthinkingly bend to the judgment of others. Of course she was right. She always is.

She further explained to me that the things she bought me were boy’s clothes by the simple fact that it was a boy who was wearing them. She expressed, again and again, that she wasn’t dressing me up like a girl and she certainly had no desire for me to be one. What she wanted me to be was a pretty boy. She found it attractive. And, well, it’s not like it hurt me to do chores in skirts or lace panties. It made her more likely to do delightful things with me, whether sexual or simply sweet, doting, and romantic. She’d slide her hands over my clothes, into the stockings and up the crop tops, steal kisses in the kitchen or even jump up on the counter so I could get her off before breakfast. So, truth be told, I sort of leaned into it. After a time it even made me feel sexy because she found it sexy. It made me feel desirable, even loved, and I wanted more of that.

In time I even began to like the feel of them on my body. The way the soft stockings felt when I pulled them up over my shaved legs. The way the shirts fit me, clinging to my chest, how I looked in sheer hose. The way the skirts and thongs reminded me of just how exposed I was, especially when I was scrubbing the bathroom on my hands and knees, how easy it would be for her to come up and take me from behind - a thing she did not infrequently. She’d just pin me down and have her way with me, getting herself off by pegging my ass with a vibrating double sided dildo she’d fit into a strap on before leaving me alone to finish my work, still wet and dripping, with the added bonus of now having to clean the cum off the tile as well. If she was in a more sadistic mood she’d have me clean it with my tongue, panties still down, her rubber cock still in my ass, grinding her hips against me.

I didn’t really need the gifts, not really, but they were this kind of physical signifier that I was pleasing her. So I kept doing the things that got me gifts and, better yet, her praises. I’d do her chores, wear the clothes, give her pedicures and massages, cook her favorite meals. Especially after I moved in with her. I worked from home so I’d even do my job wearing a more casual outfit - like daisy dukes with a tight flannel knotted in front. Or sometimes even in nothing more than lacy negligee and a pair of garters and stockings. A couple times she even had me sit on a vibrating massager while I was trying to work just so she could watch my cock strain at the confines of the cage, never receiving quite enough juice to get me off.

I could tell she was in a really good mood when she said she wanted to actually see me get off. She would have me fuck myself in front of her, using one of our toys in my ass, sometimes with a vibrator latched to the cage - which always remained on - perhaps kneeling on the carpet in front of her, cock dripping, while eating her out, or even, embarrassingly, spread legged on the glass tv table, everything on display like a museum piece. When she was in a really good mood, she’d even do it herself. She took immense pleasure in stretching me and seeing just how much I could take inside me, little by little. I can’t lie, I began to crave that feeling of being completely filled, to feel her pushing the toys in and out of me over and over again, fucking me hard, grinding it into my insides and pushing them up against my prostate. Even though I felt ashamed, spread out and moaning like some needy slut, I just couldn’t get enough of it. I even felt turned on just knowing how taboo and debased it was, the shame itself fueling my hunger. I’d be near falling to pieces from embarrassment yet still be very eager to continue, unable to stop. Sometimes she’d stop and ask if I needed to quit, or if I didn’t like it, and I’d begrudgingly admit how I actually loved every second of it and would beg and plead for her to continue again, to keep going.

She decided she liked seeing me embarrassed like that, the way it looked like I couldn’t stand another moment while simultaneously getting increasingly excited by it, my body responding to it almost against my will. She had me do more and more things just to get me flustered. That is to say she expressed that she’d like seeing it and I couldn’t help but give her exactly what she wanted. She really enjoyed putting me in awkward or ridiculous situations, weird predicaments designed specifically to make me squirm, and it got worse and worse over time. But I was rapidly becoming a glutton for punishment, even as I felt the layers of my pride and manhood being stripped further and further away.

I could give you a million examples of the things she did. She’d peg me up against the windows, my body pressed to the glass in full view, or on webcam for strangers. She’d truss me up like a turkey reading for stuffing on the dining room table, or string me up from the ceiling in shibari, or tie me up on the bed and make me beg and plead just to pleasure her. She would make me go shopping with vibrators taped to my thighs, or balance a tray of drinks on my back while she watched TV, or sleep in the closet, or clean her feet with my tongue before doing her nails. She’d sit on my face and put on a movie, or keep me between her legs while she ate a meal I’d just cooked her. She’d put a vibrator on my chastity cage and rub her clit on it until she came, leaving my own cock hard and aching. She’d even attach a vibrating dildo to a chastity belt, facing outward like a proper dick, and ride that while my cock was locked up inside. She had me wear a plug and keep clean so she could peg me whenever she got in the mood, even if I was in the kitchen cooking or trying to do the laundry. She would tease me while she did, saying that she had to train my ass very well so she could use bigger and bigger toys, that if she was going to peg me then she wanted to have a huge cock to do it with. She even filmed and took sexy photos of us for an onlyfans account, more enjoying the attention and perverted comments that flooded in - and the way I agonized over the exposure - than whatever money came from it. She really got off to being admired and lusted after. Sometimes a purchase or a hot comment would have her seeking me out so she could talk about it while I went down on her.

Just recently she invited a friend over for lunch, and, since I hadn’t been informed she was coming, they walked in while I was cleaning the living room in a cute little lotita dress my girlfriend had bought me. The skirt barely covered my ass cheeks and if I moved at all you could see my panties and bowed garters. Her friend saw me, of course, and I was absolutely mortified. I wanted to run and get changed, but my girlfriend, probably seeing how flustered I was, invited me into the conversation so that I couldn’t bolt for cover. I had to politely join in while they talked about a new sweet shop that had opened up downtown, and then the small boutique next to it.

This was incredibly different than doing such things in front of strangers. Having someone there, in person, and someone I personally knew, was filling me with so much shame I thought I would die. I didn’t understand how her friend could just keep casually talking like that either, like nothing was going on. Eventually the conversation rolled around to me and my dress. They went over all the little details, the trimming, how it fit me. I felt very put on the spot, especially as they started talking more about my body than the dress. Over time more and more indulgent details started finding their way out of my girlfriend’s mouth. The two of them, to my utter horror, even lifted up the front of my dress to take a look at my cage tucked so neatly into my trimmed panties. I wanted to bat their hands away, to cover myself, but my girlfriend seemed so thrilled, even proud, to have someone to share this with. And I really did want her to enjoy herself, even if it came at my expense. So in the end I let them and kept my embarrassment to myself.

You see, as it turned out, this friend of hers had a particular shared interest, something which they’d bonded over in the past. Namely pretty boys, and especially pretty boys kept in chastity. My girlfriend started divulging more intimate details, egged on by the excitement of her friend - how she used toys on me, the ways she tied me up and how she fucked me. Her friend was eager for details, asking more and more explicit questions which my girlfriend was more than happy to answer.

It was at this point that her friend started expressing how envious she was, how she wished she could find a nice boy like me. She said she’d been single for much too long and it was really starting to bring her down. She hadn’t even had a good lay in ages, she said.

It was at this point that my girlfriend suggested something completely crazy. She offered to let her friend have some fun with me, let off some steam. I of course protested. I didn’t want to cheat on my girlfriend or anything. I loved her. But my girlfriend very patiently pointed out that wasn’t she the one suggesting it and giving permission for it? No one was cheating if everyone was okay with it. There are plenty of people having threesomes and swingers parties so I shouldn’t make such a fuss about such a small thing.

Honestly I think I was just really put off guard by the suggestion. I was already embarrassed, and now my girlfriend was talking about doing sexual things with someone I barely even knew. My girlfriend seemed to notice my apprehension, and started running her hands over me, asking me what was wrong, asking me if I didn’t find her friend attractive or if I was being too shy. I didn’t want to insult her friend, or disappoint my girlfriend, so I finally caved.

I was shocked by how cool they were stripping down into their underwear, complimenting each other on their choices, laughing, like it wasn’t anything more than a casual dinner party. As for me, they watched while I stripped down slowly in front of them, into my sheer slip and panties. I kept the stockings on. Her friend sat on the couch and my girlfriend directed my face between her legs.

I got to work with my tongue, gently parting her pussy lips, sliding it over her clit. I could tell she was already getting wet, her taste filling my mouth. I gently worked my fingers inside her while I continued to work on her clit. I could hear her moaning, feel the little movement of her legs against the sides of my head, squeezing me tighter.

And then I felt my girlfriend, pulling down my panties from behind. I felt her slowly draw out the plug that I’d put there earlier that afternoon as she’d directed to do in a text message. I heard - and felt - the little pop as it released from me. I gasped, and I felt her friend pull my face down onto her with her hand, her fingers wrapping in my hair.

My girlfriend then explained to her friend about her strap on. I couldn’t see it, but I knew she was showing it off. Her friend was delighted, and I could feel her getting hotter, getting more and more turned on, her body writhing on my tongue and fingers.

Then I felt the cold chill of lube followed by my girlfriend’s large rubber cock pushing into my ass. I moaned and gasped, briefly pausing my efforts as I felt the length of it pushing itself inside me. She slowly worked her way in until her hips were planted flat against my ass. She pulled out, making delighted sounds of her own - the other end of the toy was pushed firmly inside her pussy.

Her friend made a soft whining sound and pulled my head again, reminding me to keep pleasuring her, even as my girlfriend started to pound me harder and harder. My girlfriend’s rhythm made my fingers push into her friend with every thrust, which seemed to drive them both wild. It was only a short time before her friend was climaxing, forcing me down onto her with both hands, legs hooked around my head as she ground her clit against my tongue, legs quivering. My girlfriend came as well, letting out a large gasp, grabbing my hips and thrusting in hard, her whole body shaking.

My girlfriend at that point popped the dildo out of me and started undoing her strap on. I was confused, but then she pulled me away from her friend and slid her friend’s legs open wider. She slid the end that had previously been inside her into her friend’s still quite sensitive pussy, making her friend moan and tremble. She helped her strap into it and used a remote to activate the internal vibrator. Her friend gasped in delight, air pulling across her teeth as she felt yet another wave of pleasure.

She then pulled me up, seated me onto the couch, and spread my legs. My caged cock was on full display. Her friend then pushed down on my legs, near my knees, lifting my ass up, and drove the strap on into me, pegging me hard into the couch. She was eager and hungry, even after her orgasm, obviously having been left unsatisfied for quite some time.

My girlfriend of course wanted to give her a fantastic experience, so began rubbing her body and teasing her, even passionately kissing her, their lipstick smearing together. It seemed to drive her friend wild - and make my cock so incredibly hard. I could feel the metal of the cage pushing hard against me as my cock pushed against it, fighting against the steel ribs.

Eventually my girlfriend grabbed a vibrator, pushing it against the cage so her friend could watch my reaction as I came, ashamed and worn out, the cum exploding out and then dribbling down my dick and over my stomach. Her friend came at the same time, the strap on pushing inside her and rubbing up against her clit from the inside. She continued to thrust into me for some time after I came, pushing the dildo into me over and over again to keep her own climax going as long as possible, riding the wave of her ecstasy, some of my own cum getting mixed into the lube and getting pushed inside me as she continued to peg me until the rush of her multiple orgasms finally wound down.

Her friend, quite pleased and pleasantly worn out, thanked my girlfriend for the fantastic experience and started getting dressed. She mentioned that she’d been planning to have one of those tupperware party type events, but with sex toys, and inquired if she might be able to borrow me for the event. She thought it would be a great deal of fun to use me for demos.

Which is how I ended up in a room full of women, all giggling at my nakedness as I moaned and writhed in the middle of a stranger’s living room, raising up my ass so I could take yet another toy into me, degrading myself like a complete slut for a full group of women.

You see, the event had grown wilder and wilder since I first stepped in with my girlfriend. It had been incredibly awkward, getting naked for them while they all sat, still clothed, eating canapes and drinking cosmos and mojitos. The girls teased me playfully and talked about how cute and adorable I was, saying things like “oh isn’t he the sweetest thing” and “look at his little thing all locked up.” I wanted to get away, but instead I kneeled down on the floor as directed. One by one her friend brought out her products - vibrators, plugs, beads, dildos, and even stranger things like electric wands, remote controlled devices, and toys that could expand inside you while you wore them.

And each and every one of these items she used me to demonstrate. Of course it was never enough for me to get off on - the places they went and the things they did were too varied to maintain a feeling long enough to push me over the edge. Just a quarter of the way through I was already desperate, eager for more sensation, willing to do anything to just get off.

And of course they took full advantage of that. At first they were a little reserved, but soon enough they too were lifting their skirts for my tongue. I pleasured them eagerly, not even concerned anymore who it was I was going down on. At the same time I could feel the sensations of toys going in and out of me, vibrators pushed against me, could hear the girls giggling in excitement.

It got more and more debaucherous - I could feel multiple sets of hands feeling me up, playing with my body, teasing my nipples and wrapping around my parts. I was made to go down on one woman with my mouth while fingering another, and then to go back and forth as two women lay on top of each other, pussies pressed together, legs spread for my access, kissing and grinding their bodies together. Again and again I felt my prostate being stimulated, the sensations of objects sliding into me, slick and wet, filling up my waiting hole, stirring up my insides until I was hot and panting, pushing my hips at whatever was offered. I could feel them stretching me, forced into me with increasing vigor. There was an almost constant buzzing against my cock, but always at different speeds, different intensities, and different rhythms, shuddering through me deep into my body. 

At the times where I wasn’t going down on women I didn’t know I was having toys pushed into my face, which I obligingly took inside me as well, letting them push down against the back of my throat in a simulated act of fellatio. Even that excited me, the precum sliding down the length of my cock, my body so desperate to be inside any of these hot, wet pussies, to feel their tight walls wrapped around me, but instead I was of course being completely denied. Instead my own body was tightening down, my muscles squeezing down on the fake cocks and strange shapes that were being shoved deep inside me, working me over again and again. At one point I’m certain they had shoved two of the smaller toys in me at once, pushing and pulling them out of me in opposite motions. I felt myself getting more and more excited knowing I was being used, was just one of the number of sex toys laid out for display, a waiting body ready for their use. I’m not sure they even knew my name. I could hear their moans as they groped and played with each other as well, hands shoved down shirts and skirts as they lost themselves to the moment.

When they were done with their amusements, exhausted and fairly drunk, I still hadn’t come. My mouth tasted of a bouquet of wet pussy, something I’d swallowed eagerly as their juices dripped down onto my face. One had even ridden my face while another used some sort of combination toy on herself, using my body to push it into herself while she braced against me with her hands, all while a third pushed a vibrating wand against my chastity cage. I could still hear the moans of their pleasure echoing in my head. But more than that I remember the endless praise of my girlfriend afterwards as she kissed me adoringly and told me how much of a good job I’d done and how happy I’d made her and her friends. I was over the moon, simply exploding with joy, even as my body complained loudly about sore muscles and overused parts.

As it turns out, there were a lot of toys sold at that party. Apparently my girlfriend’s friend had made quite a bit of money and was very thankful to her for having me over. She even gave some of the cash to my girlfriend, saying that it wouldn’t have been possible without her help. She was also quick to let my girlfriend know that she hadn’t had such a satisfying night in a long, long time.

Of course she also dropped hints that there was more money to be made in that kind of thing - were my girlfriend willing to share. She could think of a number of people who could do with a bit of full package servicing, and who would be willing to pay a lot to play with a nice boy like me. One with an able tongue who was eager to please in every possible way. She also mentioned in passing that she’d had a lot of fun the other night when it was just the two of them, and, if she did find herself a boyfriend some time soon, she would be more than happy for the two of them to come over together and have a bit of fun. Especially since I was so good at taking it up the ass and she knew my girlfriend hadn’t had a nice cock in her for a long time now. My girlfriend just laughed and said that was definitely something she might consider when the time came.

Well, what can I say? I really would do anything to make that woman happy. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would never refuse her anything, if it’s what she wanted. I don’t think I can ever go back to the way I was, nor would I want to. She’s my life now. My queen, my goddess, my everything. And while I can’t say I don’t have my reservation, it’s too late to turn back, so whatever path she decides to take this down, that’s the one I’m going to follow, no matter what happens to me.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
